


That Kind of Party

by sphekso



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphekso/pseuds/sphekso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is it that kind of party?” Dimmond asked.<br/>“No,” Bedelia said. “It’s not that kind of party.”<br/>Hannibal speared a piece of meat and brought it to his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then: “Isn’t it, though?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Kind of Party

“Is it that kind of party?” Dimmond asked.

“No,” Bedelia said. “It’s not that kind of party.”

Hannibal speared a piece of meat and brought it to his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then: “Isn’t it, though?”

“Is it?” Dimmond asked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

Bedelia looked down at her plate. “I suppose you wouldn’t,” she said. She adjusted her blouse upward and raised herself from her chair. “Excuse me,” she said. “I don’t think I’m needed anymore.”

Hannibal nodded to her. “Of course, Lydia. Please, go to our room if you need to rest. I’d worry less if you did.”

Bedelia squinted at him. “Right. Of course. You wouldn’t want me in the way of your little ‘plays’ would you?”

“Certainly not,” Hannibal said tersely. “Go to bed and let the men play.”

“Yes,” Dimmond said with a smirk. “Let the men play.”

Bedelia shook her head, then turned off and exited to the bedroom.

“About that party…” Dimmond began. “Are you…?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said, leering across the table. “I believe I am.”

“Well,” Dimmond said. “If Lydia won’t play, at least we can, can’t we?”

Hannibal smiled. “Indeed. Come here, would you?”

Dimmond put his fork down and rounded the table, past the snails and oysters and acorns.

“You assume so much,” Hannibal said, raising himself from his chair just as Dimmond reached him. “How do you know I…”

“Shhhh,” Dimmond urged. He pressed a finger to Hannibal’s lips. “I do know what kind of party this is.”

Hannibal’s eyes fluttered shut. As much as he liked to be in control, he could still enjoy a little bit of a trip under someone else. Dimmond kissed him, and he kissed back just as hard. They fought for a while, mouths back and forth, until Hannibal broke the kiss and pushed Dimmond away with one hand. “Not bad,” he said.

“Not bad?” Dimmond replied. “I think I’m better than _not bad_.” He leaned forward to kiss Hannibal again, but Hannibal pushed him away and wrapped his fist in his scarf. “So that’s how it is, is it?”

“Something like that,” Hannibal said, and yanked on Dimmond’s scarf. Dimmond bent his head toward the pull. Hannibal smiled and yanked again, unnecessarily, but to his great pleasure. “You’re a curious boy, aren’t you?”

“Oh, _so_ curious,” Dimmond replied. “Curious about your lips. And your cock.”

“Don’t be so vulgar,” Hannibal snapped. “But… I can sate your curiosity about my lips.” He leaned in for another kiss. Dimmond met him hungrily. “See?” Hannibal asked, breaking away. “Now you don’t have to be so curious.”

Dimmond smacked his lips. “I’m still curious,” he said.

“About what?” Hannibal asked, wiping his own lips with the back of his hand.

“I’m curious what you wish you could do to the one you _really_ love,” he said.

Hannibal felt a chill run down his spine. “How do you? How could you possibly…?”

“I have my ways,” Dimmond said. “I’m not so backwards as you seem to think, _Dr. Lecter_.”

“Then you know?” Hannibal asked. He didn’t look at Dimmond with fear. His gaze was something more akin to fury.

“I’ve known since the day you introduced yourself as Roman Fell,” Dimmond said. “You didn’t need to say much else.”

“Then you must also know that you’re aware of a great secret,” Hannibal said. “One I can’t let anyone else understand.”

“Oh, I am aware,” Dimmond said. “But you don’t have to worry. The true Roman was a great bother, and you’re vastly more interesting. So tell me, what do you want to do with me, _Roman_?”

“You say Roman like…” Hannibal trailed off.

“Like I don’t believe it’s your actual name?” Dimmond asked. “That’s probably because I don’t.” He reached up to stroke Hannibal’s cheek. “Come on. We don’t need the trappings of nomenclature, do we?”

“I suppose not,” Hannibal said. He gave Dimmond another kiss. “My wife is in the other room…”

“Oh, please,” Dimmond said. “I’m not a fool. I can see that she isn’t _truly_ your wife. So just…” He pressed his lips against Hannibal’s again. “That’s right. Just…” And another kiss.

“You’re intoxicating,” Hannibal said. “You remind me of someone.”

“Do I?” Dimmond asked, perking up. “Is the great Roman Fell reminiscing?”

Hannibal shook his head rapidly in an attempt to remove the thought from his mind, but it was futile. “Reminiscing.” he said. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And what, may I ask, is Roman reminiscing about?”

“Someone I used to know…” Hannibal trailed off. “Does it matter to you so much?”

“No,” Dimmond said. He stole another kiss from Hannibal’s lips, and looked awfully proud of himself once they separated. “It doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is…” He untucked Hannibal’s shirt and slid his hand underneath, traveling to his chest before pausing. “Let’s get more comfortable, shall we?”

“More comfortable?” Hannibal asked. “Yes… yes, I think we should.” He brought his hands to his shirt and popped the top couple buttons.

Dimmond jumped to attention and batted his hands away. “Let me,” he said, and moved from button to button on Hannibal’s shirt, unfastening each one until his shirt hung open completely. He brought both hands under Hannibal’s open shirt to rub his chest. “Beautiful…”

“Anthony,” Hannibal said, “allow me to undo you, now.” Dimmond moved back against the table, awaiting Hannibal’s touch. “Eager boy,” Hannibal growled.

“Perhaps,” Dimmond said. He bit his lip and tilted his head back as Hannibal set to work undoing his shirt. He didn’t stop at the buttons. He pulled at Dimmond’s sleeves, forcing his shirt off of him completely. “You know what you want, don’t you?” he purred.

“Shh,” Hannibal said, bringing his finger to Dimmond’s lips. “Don’t shatter the illusion.”

“The illusion?” Anthony asked against Hannibal’s digit.

“Shhhh,” Hannibal cooed. “Just let me…” He reached down to his own pants and unfastened himself, unzipped, and let himself into the open. “Anthony?” he asked, but he wasn’t looking for an answer.

Dimmond sighed appreciatively. “Perfect,” he said. He crouched in front of Hannibal and took him in his hand. “ _Fucking_ perfect.”

Hannibal hated profanity, but he didn’t stop him as he took him into his mouth. “Oh, god,” Hannibal moaned. He buried his hands in Dimmond’s hair to guide him deeper. “Oh…” He bucked his hips against Dimmond’s lips. He was already close; it had been so long now. As he neared the edge he growled, “Goddammit,” then every muscle in his body began to spasm as he spurted his seed into Dimmond’s mouth. He cried out a name, though he didn’t even notice which one.

Once he was done, Dimmond sat back and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Who’s Will?” he asked.

“Will…?” Hannibal replied, genuinely confused. “Oh… you must have misheard. I don’t know any Wills.”

Dimmond smirked and stood up. He pulled his scarf from his neck and used it to wipe off Hannibal’s cock. “There,” he said. “All clean.”

Hannibal coughed a little. “Clean enough,” he said. “Now… I think we’d better call on my wife.”

“Then it _is_ that kind of party,” Dimmond said.

“Lydia!” Hannibal called. Bedelia was out before he could count to five.

“Yes, dear?” she asked.

“I think we should say goodbye to our guest, now,” he said.

She grimaced and turned away. “Goodbye, Anthony,” she said.

Dimmond turned to Hannibal with curious eyes. “Why is she…?”

“I’m terribly sorry for this, Mr. Dimmond,” Hannibal said. “But I’m afraid it’s quite necessary. You must understand.”

Dimmond could do little more than gasp before Hannibal crushed his neck. He fell to the floor.

“Was that really necessary?” Bedelia asked.

“Actually, it wasn't,” Hannibal replied. He buttoned his shirt and tucked it back into his pants. “Suffice to say… I was reminiscing. I got carried away.”

“Just a little carried away?”

“Just a little,” he agreed. He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s have a bath, shall we?”

“A bath would be nice,” she said, taking in the sight of Dimmond’s lifeless body. “Will you join me?”

“Of course.” He kissed her head again.

She shuddered. “Will I be like him one day?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“…Nevermind,” she muttered. “Let’s pull our bath.”

He smiled at her, though so soon after a murder she couldn’t see his smile as anything other than disconcerting. He kissed her, and she could almost taste Dimmond on his lips. “Let’s,” he agreed.

She nodded grimly and took him by the hand.

“Lead the way,” he said.

She grabbed one last glance at Dimmond’s corpse, then tugged Hannibal toward the bathroom. “Hannibal…” she said as he closed the door behind them. “You should know, I don’t intend to be another one of your toys.”

“You mean you don’t intend to be something to be cast aside? I’m aware. Now run the water, Dr. Du Maurier. Make sure it’s nice and hot.”

“Hot… yes. I’ll make it hot.” She twisted the knobs on the tub. “But… you didn’t really _want_ Mr. Dimmond, did you? I know you.”

He rolled his shoulders in a long shrug. “I wanted someone.”

“You wanted Will Graham,” she said.

“Well,” he said, “you _are_ my psychiatrist. I should hope you would know my intentions.”

“You won’t stop until you have him, will you?”

“What do you think?” he asked.

She paused. “I think we ought to take our bath now.”

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Let’s.”


End file.
